Here was why they called her the Jewel of the Heavens.
When Nritti danced, the world felt too small. Spectators leaned out, crowding themselves elbow to elbow to watch her. Except one. Seated at the front of the stage and flanked in an ivory throne carved of clouds, sat a young man. His crown was mortal-made, for it did not gleam with Otherworld jewels and even his finest silks were not as resplendent as the most common of our garb for it did not contain a single thread of moonlight. In profile, he was handsome. When he turned his head, he was shockingly beautiful. Even Nritti—who had walked past the god of love himself without a second glance—could not keep her eyes off of him and he, even though he was not looking at her, seemed to tilt toward the sound of her. His whole body seemed shaped to the light she cast. It was only when he turned his head to face the crowd that I saw why he didn’t bother to look at her: He was blind.
*
“… I asked him twice about the talon marks down his back,” said a harried yakshini. She had a long multicolored beak and bright gold hair that ruffled furiously about her face. “And do you know what he said?”
I faked a grin. Sometimes I’d get customers who considered purchasing a dream fruit little more than telling someone all about their horrific day. This was one of those occasions. The line had been long at first, but once this yakshini had gotten in line, half the beings behind her had dwindled. The other half were either smiling smugly—probably thinking of how to leverage the long wait time into their haggling methods—and the other half were one word away from leaving. I wanted to scream. This woman was jeopardizing my ability to empty out the Night Bazaar of its sari collection.
“No, I don’t. But I do think that you’ve paid generously for a dream fruit. Perhaps even two!”
She cocked her head to one side. “Two?”
“Yes.”
I shoved the fruit into her arms.
“One for you and one for your mate,” I said loudly and quickly. “Nothing makes a couple stay together more than mutual dreams.”
“I suppose so,” she said, gathering the fruit. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
I did not say: Please come again soon.
The next person in line was a handsome asura. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with glinting eyes that glinted green as the jungle in one moment and blue as the sea in the next.
“That line was horrifically long, but had I known that a thing as lovely as you waited on the other side, I wouldn’t have complained.”
A thing. I suppressed a recoil.
“I am sorry about the wait.”
“I could wait forever.”
Please stop talking.
“But compensation is necessary. My time is precious. I’m a king, you know.”
So are half the people here.
“What do you want?”
“Three dream fruit.”
“For the price of what?” I asked, bristling.
“Oh no, beauty. I’m not paying. This is compensation. I can guarantee you that just by standing here in your line and letting my presence be felt, I’ve increased the size of your customers.”
Or chased away a third.
“That’s out of the question.”
“Forget the dream fruit then,” said the asura. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows against the table. “Let us talk about what I may offer you.”
“Remove yourself.”
“You know what I find interesting?” he said, reaching for my hand.
I yanked it back.
“Half the people here always think that you summon demons to your side. How would you like to prove those rumors true, beauty?” He smiled. “What do you do all day? Tend to your dream orchard and wait on nightfall? Surely, you would prefer my company to all those lonesome trees?”
“I would prefer the company of feral tigers with foul breath and a lightning bolt for a tail instead of you. Get out. You’re not interested in these wares. And I am certainly not interested in yours.”
“Oh, dear Night. So delicate. So lonely. So unfamiliar with the ways of demons and men. Let me teach you. You are wrong, you know. I am interested in your wares,” he said, grinning. “Just not the fruit.”
“You’re interested in my wares?” I asked, tilting my head. I smiled, looking at him through the veil of my lashes. Light skittered over my skin, as if my fury had piqued the stars’ interest.
He was hardly a hand span away from my face. Up close, his eyes were pond swill. His breath reeked of blood. “You see, no one else would ever want you. You spend so much time in that human world, you might as well be one. Who would ever pair themselves with something so sullied? No husband would share your bed for fear that you may bring demons upon him when he sleeps. But me? I’m different. I would touch you. Only I could ever bear to touch you.”
Wrong, I thought. An image of the Dharma Raja bloomed in my mind. He was at my side, a cold smile and poor flattery on his lips. I raised my hand to the asura. White light winked in my palm.
“Could you truly suffer my touch? Me and all my delicate, lonesome, cursed weakness?”
“Yes,” he said hungrily.
“How selfless of you.” I brought my palm to his skin. His eyes widened, ringed round with white. My arm tensed in the struggle, the star-spangled and black velvet of my skin twitching in restraint. I could burn you, I thought. But that wouldn’t bode well for my reputation. Still, I kept him there and for a terrible moment, the knowledge that I could burn him to a stunted pair of horns rushed through me in a delicious wave.
“The stars are rather delicate, aren’t they?” I whispered low in his ear. He was sweating now. The air had the metallic tang of flesh collapsing under heat. “Do you forget that I wear the stories of the world on my skin? I don’t care that demons take advantage of my hours to kill and plunder. That is not my concern. You are too small for me, little monster. I keep time aloft. I keep the promise of tomorrow. And you are nothing.”
He broke away, gasping. A ghostly imprint of my hand spanned across his cheek. Glittering bits of stars clung to his singed eyelashes and burnt ear.
“Monster,” he hissed.
I grinned. “Only at night.”
He ran.
“I’ll be back tomorrow if you want some more!” I hollered after him.
The line went quickly after that. A few of the customers rushed through their orders. Eager to get away from me perhaps. The last person in line slithered forward, sinuous and languid. Small gems sparkled off her serpent tail. Dramatically, she flung back her cobra hood. Then again, she did everything dramatically. Uloopi, the princess of the Nagas, braced her elbows on the table and winked at me.